
QassTRii. 
Book 



M "' 



/ 
THE 



FREE KNIGHTS: 



OR 



THE EDICT 
CHARLEMAGNE- ^ ^^ 



A DRAMA, 

IN THRtE ACTS, 

INTERSPERSED WITH MUSIC 



BY FREDERICK REYNOLDS. 



AS PERFORMED AT THE 

THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDE^T, 

(from the first London edition of 1810.) 



NEW- YORK: 

rUBLISHED BY DAVID LONGWORTH, 

Shakspmrc- Gallery. 



May-ieio: 





■i\3f7 


DRAMATIS PERSONi^ 


Prince Palatine 


Mr. Egerton 


The Abbot of Corbey 


Young 


Baron Ravensburg 


Blanchard 


Count Roland 


Incledon 


Ravensburg 


C. Kembk 


Prisoner 


Claremont 


Bernardo 


Chapman 


St. Clair 


• Cresswell 


Everard 


Atkins 


Zastrow 


Jefferies 


Walbourg 


King 


Christopher 


. . Fawcett 


Oliver 


Simmons 


1st Falconer 


Treby 


2d Falconer 


Field 


Free knights— crusaders- 


-soldiers— falconers. 


Countess Roland , 


Mrs. Davenport 


Ulrica 


Dickons 


Agness 


H. Johnston 


Dancers — attendants. 



Scene-^ JVtstphalta, 



"^ FREE KNIGHTS. 



A c T r. 



JCENE I — a spacious cavern, veined with ore, mark- 
ing the remains of a sulphur mine — at a distance a 
sheet of'voater, with a lamp hanging over it ; and 
cells, with iron grating before them — on the right 
a large brazen door ; on the left another, with steps 
leading vp to it. 

EVERARD discovered. 

(knocking and trumpets) 

Ever Hark ! another victim ! (unbars the door) 

mter zastrow, leading in a prisoner whose eyes are 
bandaged. 

Pris. Whither ! oh, whither would ye lead me ? — 
;o pa»s, apparently, o'er rugged jocks, ascend hig!i 
mountains, and descend to vaults ; hear the close bay- 
ng of the forest wolf, and the loud cataract's terrific 
roar ; and now, e'en now, perhaps to stand upon the 
s^erge of some stujjendous precipice ! 

Zas. {removing prisoner's veil.) Behold! behold 
Lhe precincts of that famed iribunaJ, that renders jus- 
tice to the christian cause, and strikes dismay through- 
Diit the christian world. 



^ FREE [Reynolds 

Pris. Merciful heaven ! if justice be the boast of 
your tribunal, why all this dark, mysterious 

Zas. How ! — dare but to whisper one invidious word 
against an institution that's upheld by 

Pris {crossing to Everard.) To you who seem to 
wear a human form — to you I make appeal. Some 
three months past, my interest called me from my na- 
tive land, here to VVestphalia ; and but last night, 
when all around was calm and still as my own thoughts, 
a loud terrific knocking at the portal, «onvulsed my 
habitation. I rushed forth to know the cause, and by 
the moon's pale beam, read on a banner fixed into the 
earth, this awful suminons : " Appear, Augustus Mont- 
fort, before the Free Knights ! traitor, appear !"— how, 
how was I to act? a stranger to their hidden, mystic 
forms, I sought my neighbors fof inquiry — when, sad 
reverse ! I who before was welcomed with their smiles, 
met, now, such fearful and contempiuous looks, that but 
for conscious and inherent pride, I had been Men your 
victim. 

Zast. Ay, none, none dare notice the accused. 

Pris. None, save a monk, who, far less worldly 
than the rest, stopt, and warnM me to obey this their 
first summons ; or soon a second, and a third would 
follow: and, on my then not answering, not only 
would my seatence be proclaimed, but my best friend, 
ay, my own son, were he a member of this dread tribu- 
nal, would by a solemn oath, be bound to plunge his. 
dagger in his father's heart ! such are free knights! — 
such the famed members of this lauded court ! and 
having further learnt, that on the tolling of the mid- 
night bell, ai my own gate, or at the citadel, a cho- 
sen minister of vengeance passed, to pilot the accused, 
I went ; and you, through paths most dangerous and 
inscrutable have brought me to the spot where justice- 
feign;? ; if so, give the first proof of justice — trial! — by 
that 1 am prepared to stand or fail. 

£var. Trial ! alas ! it may be years^- 



let I] KNIGHTS S 

Pris. Years ! I'll not believe it. Where are my 
udges ? 

Zast. There ! (pointing to a door) in full council, 
electing a free knight. And till that awful ceremony's 
)ast, they must not be disturbed ; nor then, but by 
heir chief, prince Palatine, who. on returning from 
he holy wars, comes to consult them on affairs of 
tate. {}w^sic). Hark! he approaches! this way, 
o your dungeon — {prisoner appeah Nay, no parSey- 
ng — you have to cope with those who'll teach you pa.- 
ience and subnjission. 

Music — prisoner is led into his cell^ and Zastrow 
bars the g:ite, Everard showing compass on. Zas- 
trow opens the door, and the Prince and VValbourg 
enter. 

Prince. So, after an interval of ten long years, again 

view and welcome the tribunal. Ay, Walbourg, 
/elcome it. For though dark traitors plotting against 

state, may oft elude the common vigilance which 
road and open justice takes, yet can they escape the 
enetrating eye of this deep-searching and all tjower- 
j1 court ? — no, unseen, it sees, and unknown, pries 
ito such hidden guilt, that the detected villain, awe- 
Lruck, cries, "" this is not man's, but heaven's unerr- 
ig vengeance " 

Zast. And, once detected, shall free knights for- 
ive ? be death the doom of all the prince's foes ! 

Prince {after a short pause.) Ay, death ! for long 
mred to daring and to desperate deeds, still deeper 
lUst I plunge. But, oh, my friend ! in the bright 
lorn of life — {aside to Walbourg. j 

{trumpets within — the pi'ince shx)ws sunprise,) 

Zast The council are electing a free knight ; the 
allant Ravensburg. 

Prince. Ravensburg ! the brave heroic youth, who 
n the plains of Palestine first stamped the glory of the 
bristian arms ! I guess his honest, loyal motive — he 



a FREE [Reynolds 

has heard rumors of a conspiracy, and here, as in the 
field, would die to serve his prince. 

Ever. So he avovv-d my liege ; and also that his fa- 
ther, the baron Ravensburg. had urged him ; and though 
he started when he entered, and wondered much why 
all our actions should be thus involved in dark obscuri- 
ty, yet loyal and parental love prevailed, and he rushed 
in to add^one more to the ennobled list that graces the 
tribunal. 

Prince. Exalted Ravenburg! let all who would up- 
hold their prince's cause like thee, uphold this hallowed 
institution. 

enter ravensburg hasiily. 
Havens. In storm, in battle, in the hour of malady, 
1 can brave danger with heroic firmness : but here I 
own and feel myself so much a coward, that not for 
worlds would I return and face -.hat scene of unexam. 
pled horror ! back with me as 1 canie, and do 1 live to 
utter ? your arm — 1 sicken, faint with apprehension. 

Prince. Why. Ravensburg! the motive loya' and 
parental love, and yet dare hesilate ! return— perform 
the solemn rites — 

Ravens, Wiiat ! swear I will pursue all doomed by 
this despotic court, and swifter than the lightning 
strike a deadly weapon e'en in a parent's breast? — ne- 
ver ! 

Prince Never ! 

Ravens. My liege ! error, perhaps, misleads me ; 
but train'd in cam{ s and ihe rough school of war, 
though 1 ne'er felt that superstitious zeal which found- 
ed and, supports these unkno.\n judges, yet an enlhu- 
biast in the christian cause, ] would maintain as the 
cause deserves, by open vindication of its rights ; and 
rjot by such mysterious arts as truth and justice must 
disdain to practice. 

Prince. Mysterious arts ! 
Ravens. Aye ; why else at dead of night, with 
shrouded sight, was I conducted to this drear abyss^ 
through ways apparently unknown to man? and next 



Act I] kNiGHTS 7 

immured in a long vaulted cell, where, as I gazed up« 
on devices framed to heighten my alarm, tw^o ghastly- 
figures, wrapt in mortuary veils, rush'd forth, and lay- 
ing bare my breast, with a new slaughtered captive's 
blood, there mark'd a crucifix, and then descending to 
a deeper cell, where, in full council, round an altar, 
form'd of human skeletons, the secret knights appear- 
ed ; and whilst the cavern rung wiUi the loud shrieks 
of burning and of tortur'd victims, they proffered me 
their oath— that oath which bound me to destroy 
friend, father, mistress ! mighty heaven ! let bigots re- 
concile and court these s tenes — I have the common 
feelings nature prompts, and fly from such barbarity. 

{going} 

Prince, Hold ! by this desperate, this outrageous 
act, you have incurred and well deserve our vengeance ! 
and who is Ravensburg, that thus condems what laws^ 
what monarchs, and what ; on Lift's sanction ; and which 
to loyal and obedient minds is now the rallying beacon 
of their hopes ; for who, but this all seeing court, can 
save your sovereign andfriend^fat/ier, mistress, from. 
a conspiracy, perhaps as fatal, as that by which the 
princess, young Theresa, fell? 

Ravens, flow ! 

Prince. Hear me ! some fotirteen tedious years are 
past, since on my loved, lamented, brother's death, 
this infant, only child, became the victim of that curst 
Italian fiend, the count Manfredi's treachery, and ], 
against my will, was hailed prince Palatine. Manfre- 
di perished, not as he merited — he died a natural death 
— and wilh him treason seemingly extinct ; 1, like the 
rest of Europe's 2ealous champions, join'd the crusa- 
ders in the holy land; you followed, and you fought, 
so nobly, I confess, I little thought that Ravensburg 
would join with new Manfredi's to overthrow his 
prince. 

Ravens. That I ! lives there the slanderous and ca- 
lumnious wretch, who dare — 

(drawing his sabre 



S FREE {Reynolda 

Prince, {holding his arm) The man who will not 
court the certain means by which foul treason may be 
traced and crush'd, so far encourages and aids the 
crime, that he is himself a traitor ! and now, when 
journeying from my capital, I hither come for counsel 
and redress — shame ! ah, shame ! if feeling for your 
prince have no effect, think of an absent father's claims, 
who, to the loss of a son's valued life, may add his 
own and others of his race. ( Raven sbiirg shows a- 
larm takes him aside) — ay, the tribunal, once offend- 
ed, will mark and watch with such suspicious eyes, 
e'en your most distant kindred, that danger, great as 
your offence, hangs o'er them. 

Ravens. They cannot — will not ! 

Prince. They will And picture the reverse — by 
linking with this formidable chain, which, though in- 
visible, encircles all, you may. watch o'er your house's 
safety {noise without, of unbarring gates) They come 
— to execute your sentence ! you've no alternative — . 
escape you cannot ! in church, in palace, shall the free 
knights strike ; therefore instantly, complete the forms, 
and aid your country's and your prince's cause ; or, 
like a base detested parricide, involve an aged parent's^ 
life— 

Ravens. Hold ! hold ! a parent's claims are ever 
paramount ; and heaven, that witnesses my motive^ 
will pardon my consenting. 

two FREE KNIGHTS appear at each door, and are act- 
vancing with uplifted daggers. 

Pnnce. Forbear ! he is a convert ! he will unite with 
us in tracing and overthrowing new conspiracy. Come, 
you're my friend again {taking Rctvensburg\s hand) 
And whilst Westphalia's my abode, I will sojourn me 
in yonr father's house, and witness, as I am told, ano- 
ther ceremony, the happy celebration of your nuptials. 

Ravetis. My nuptials ^ap|;y ! well ! well I lead on. 
13e this my first, my lesser sacrifice, 



\ct I] KNIGHTS ^ 

[music— a party of free knights enter at one door, car- 
rying a banner, on which is painted the cross, an 
olive-branch, and a poinard — a party likewise enter 
at the other door, carrying a banner, on zchich is 
painted an eye. surrounded by clouds^ and radiated 
by the sun — Prince, Ravensburg, and train exeunt, 
free kxihghis following. 
SCENE II — an open country : Corbey abbey in the dis- 
tance — at the right wng, the gates of the tozcn of 
Corby ; at the left wing, the chateau of baron Ra- 
vensburg. 
inter countess roland and ulrica, from the cha- 
teau. 
Countess. So — this is grateful — this is grateful— 
mswer me — who has maintained you? who was edu- 
cated you? and from whom did you get these line 
clothes, and fine manners? from me! you took your 
manners from me ! 

Ulrica. Took your manners! lord, aunt! and yet 
fou call me ungrateful! 

Countess. And last summer, who took a fine house 
or you at Aix la chapelle ? and starting you on a mat- 
•imonial speculation, so dazzled and decoyed od ba- 
•on Ravensburg, that he not only invited us to his 
ihateau here, but selected you to be his son's wife, the 
vife to the hero of Palestine. And yet, though I told - 
^ou. modern friends followed new houses as naturally 
is rats run from old ones, you were for my laying out 
ny last florin oa a cottage — a cheap paltry cottagi ! 

Ulrica. And why, aunt ? because I thought we 
ihould both most like what we were most used to. 
Covntess. Most used to? 

Ulrica. To be sure ! till a few years ago, when you 
rent to live at Roland castle, didn't you keep such a 
nug little cot in Franconia, that you might have pack- 
d it up, and taken it with you ? 
Countess. My Franconia cottage ! mercy on 'n • ! 
Ulrica. Yes; dont I still wish myself in that cot? 
do, 1 do ; for its all very well if a person have the mis- 
B 



10 FREE [Reynolds 

fortune to be born a fine lady — but to be made one ! 
to be taught to talk without thinking, stare without 
looking, and be red without blushing ! lord ! who'd go 
and waste money at fairs and carnivals, when they 
might see curiosities in every great house for nothing ! 

Countess, If you dare hint to baron Ravensburg — 

Ulrica, Not 1 ! — I dare no more tell baron Ravens- 
burg what you once were, than I dare tell your rural 
relations what you now are ; for if he knew you were 
once Winifred Winbuttle, and they knew — lord ! lord ! 
if those I so long lived with, if aunt Alice, and her son 
Christopher — dear darling cousin Christopher ! — 

Countess, {zc/io has been walking about in a rage) 
Jade! Jezabel! how often must I remind you, that 1 
no longer acknowledge this Franconia relationship ? 
that I am, and have been, since last winter, of pure, 
noble,norman extraction, and widow of the great count 
Roland, madam, who, struck with charms, soon marri- 
ed me, madam, and being married, soon died, madam. 

Ulrica. Very, very soon. And you may well take 
it to heart ; for, alas ! his estate went with his title — 
went to his nephew, young count Roland, who, after 
an abscence of many years, returned from his travels 
on that most melancholy day. {half crying) 

Countess, {weeping) He did ; and grief, grief pre- 
vented my seeing him ; but you saw him, Ulrica, and 
by what I heard of the tender interview, if the count 

hadn't been suddenly called away again oh ! 'tis a 

sweet estate ! one third of it would be consolation for 
any loss. 

Ulrica. There ! you think I'm to exterminate the 
whole german nobility, whilst I think there are 
even doubts about the young baron Ravensburg. 
Again, from my window this morning, again I saw him 
in close conversation with the sweet interesting Agnes 
— and if he love an humble orphan, and I love the hum- 
ble Christopher now, do, aunt, do let me tell him, 

and every body, you're become a fine lady : if I dont, 
they'll never find it out, aunt. 



Act I] KNIGHTS 11 

Countess. Talk of your cousin, Christopher ! whom 
I hav'n't seen for years, and never mean to see again ! 
peace, I insist! and for Ravensburg — your betroth'd's 
— loving Agnes, the baron's dread of that marriage 
will hasten yours or if it dont, and this string snaps, 
in young count Roland we've perhaps a better. But 
see — our host — hush! for your life not one word of 
Franconia. 

Baron, (speaks without) Now, prepare yourselves 
to receive our illustrious visitor with the honor due to 
his rank* 

enters. 

Why, countess, I've been looking for you every 
where. What do you think ? the prince Palatine 
means to copy your example ; like you, he means to 
be a visitor at my chateau, and be present at the cele- 
bration of my son's nuptials. His train have already 
passed the aqueduct, {a strain of music) Hark ! he 
approaches, {calls on the servants) Come along all of 
you, and make your best bows and curtsies. 

the procession enters, 

{after procession) Now, Ulrica, as I am not ontf 
of your silver-toned orators, do you give to the war- 
riors from the Holy land a most harmonious greeting. 

RECITITIVE — ULRICA. 

With well-earn'd laurels in the christian cause, 
Receive, great chief, your native land's applause. 

AIR. 

Famed crusaders ! just as brave, 
Form'd a nation's right to save ! 

Now repose on tranquil plains, 
Listen to our dulcet strains. 
Peace inviting, 
Joy exciting. 
Till the foe again assail. 
Then the glorious contest hail. 



12 FREE [Reynolds 

Prince. Delightful! exquisite! (^o Ravensburg, zcA© 
looks ('ejected) r.ay, Ravensburg. the die is cast, the 
solemn oath is sworn, and should your altered looks 
create the least suspicion of what's past, beware ! be- 
ware : for 'tis a secret that was ne'er divulged — not 
e'en your chosen partner must suspect that you're in- 
vested with a free knighfs rank. 

Rao. 'Tis swoin — 'tis secret. 

Baton, {advancing xcith all respect towards thz, 
prince) My league, this honor to a poor old simple ba- 
ron 

Prince, Sir, you've a title that surpasses pedigree. 
You are the father of the gallant Ravensburg ; and 
since he comes to claim the soldier's brightest, best re- 
ward, fair woman's love, I trust to find you have selec- 
ted one who richly merits such an envied prize. 

£ :ron. {'ntroUucing Ulrica) This is the lady, your 
highness ; and she not only boasts great rank, and, as 
you sep, gi eat beauty ; but she has nothing of what 
destroyed my matrinicnial happiness — no distant rela- 
tions, no poor cou.ins, nephews, nieces, and grand- 
children, V bo, on a rich man marrying into a family, 
actually treat him as private property, and go on get- 
tinr: more cousif^s. 

Prince, {to Ravensburg) She seems as artless as if 
trained in humble unsophi&ticaled life ; and I prognos- 
ticate, will yield that calm content which I, aias ! can 
never hope to taste — never ! — com?, let us in, and on 
to morrow be the nuptials solemnized. (Ravensburg 
cj'pecls) 

enter agnes. 

• Jgnes. Madam — the {countess stops her) 

Prince. Ay. Ravensburg, to-morrow; for, harras- 
sed as we are by foul conspiracy, our stay's preca- 
rious ; and till we're summon'd to the scene of dan- 
ger, let loud festivity and outward show dismiss our 
inward grief. 

Ravens, My liege, may I suggest 



Act IJ KNIGHTS 13 

Baron. Suggest nothing — tis all settled — the prince 
has said it. I've said it ; and to-morrow the priest 
shall say it. Lead on — away — and yet bless me, how 
rude I am. I have introduced your highness only to 
Ulrica. That, entering the chateau, is her aunt the 
countess Roland, (countess curtsies to the prince and 
exit) That next to her is Agnes, the poor orphan Ag- 
nes. 

Ravens. The poor ! my liege, though rank nor for- 
tune smiled upon her birth, she is so rich, in more sub- 
stantial charms, that you, her sovereign, might be 
proud to boast a daughter of such peerless worth. 

Prince, {starting, and gazing on Agnes wit/i great 
emotion) That form, those eyes ! that mark'd majes- 
tic, ne'er to be forgotten mien! {Jgnes curtsies and 
exit) merciful powers! whence came she, Ravens • 
burg? fly, swift recall her! yet hold! for if it 
prove impossible, it cannot be ! — and the dread vi- 
sion past, we are ourselves, and hail the festive scene. 
Imusic — exeunt into the chcdeau ; the baron and OH 

ver remaining to usher tha parly in — the baron is 
followifig ; Oliver stops him. 

Oliver. One word, only one word from your faith- 
ful old Oliver, who cant help reminding you that he 
became your servant this day thirty years. 

Baron, 1 know you cant. You are always remind- 
ing me; and if you go on presuming upon long ser- 
vice, and making honesty so very troublesome — — give 
me a civil downright rascal ! and so follow, and assist 
in preparing for the glorious union of the Roland and 
the Ravensburgs — of two families who boast pedi- 
grees. 

Oliver. Granted : but I've seen what you might have 
seen. Your son dont love Ulrica : he loves my poor 
dear Agnes ! 

Baron. Granted. Thanks to the countess, I've 
seen it ever since he came from the wars ; and if Ag- 
nes had seen it, she had never seen my house again ; 
but as she chose to b discreet, she shall now see an 
% 



14 FREE [Reynolds 

union that will blazon our family-liall with norman, 
sayon, Spanish, danish— in short, with heraldry never 
yet seen or heard of. 

Oliver, Stop — one word, {baron breaks from him, 
and exit) So this is love of pedigree: this is because he 
reckons by titles, not by character. And if a certain 
lady, whose name I wont mention, were not countess 
Roland, he d see she was no more than a deep, decoy* 

ing, match making plaiigue on't! 1 hope she won't 

next hook him into the noose; for if she had a hus- 
band every morning, my life on't, she'd be a widow* 
before night. Oh lord ! poor Agnes, poor young 
master, and poor old Oliver, [lemains in a thoughtful 
I est arc. 

enter Christopher through the gates. 

Chris, {looking round) Dear, dear, what a nice, 
sweet, pretty place ! well, I declare when travellers 
used to talk of their fine sights, I used to wink and nod, 
as much as to say, I believe it s all bounce. But when 
I go back, and describe that object {pointing to theab- 
Scy in the distance) and this object {turning round 
and ri:nning against Olrcer) — sir, I beg pardon for 
(•ailing you an object. But you see I am just come from 
the woods, sir — from the woods about six leagues off, 
sir, where I washawiing with my lord, when he — -he — • 
he — od' rabbit it! — bit or miss, it will be rare sport. 
Oliver* VV hat's sport ? and who are you ? {angrily) 
Chris. Why, thafs it. 1 want to know who i am ; 
and perhaps you cant'iil me. {gets close to him) Little 
Soloman, you se6. pne of our under falconers, and who 
has seen ail my relations, come t-other day to this town 
for a basket of provisicns for my lord and his hawking 
party ; and as he was staring about, who should he see 
ushered into a fine house, and hear being call'd by a 
fine name, but my aunt Winifred — old Winifred Win- 
buttle, the housekeeper ! very well — I couldn't say or 
unsay this, you know ; so I directly gets leave of my 
lord to come myself, and stave about ; for thinks 1, if 1 



Act I] KNIGHTS 15 

am made a fool of, I'm only where I was, you know. 
{with affected simplicity ) 

Oliver, Certainly, or worse; for to suppose I'll stay 
chattering here about Solomon and Winifred, proves, 
if not quite, that you are very near an idiot, (going) 

Chris, {taking his arm) Very — I'm very near an 
idiot! And yet, do you know, upon my honor, Solomon 
described every thing ! from aunt Winifred, and her 
great title, down to the Gothic latch'd gate, and the 
little twaddling old butler who open'dit: he did— and 

if I could but once — {looking about) — only just once 

{seeing the chateau) — Why, that's it ! by Soloraon'f 
description, that must be ihe very house, that the gate, 
and you — he ! he ! he '.—Come, I'm no fool now ! Icod, 
I see who you are. 

Oliver, [standing before ihe door) Dolt! booby! I 
leave you to your folly! But I would have you know, 
there are none in this house, none but the Lady Sera* 
phina, the Countess of Roland — 

Chris. Who? 

Oliver. The Countess of Roland, and her niece Ul- 
rica ; so that's your final answer from the little twad- 
dling old butler. [exit into the chateau 

Chris, {strutting, ^-c.) 'Tis she !— Aunt Winifred, 
by law, takes a countess's title ; and I — pshaw ! I'm 

like other great people, I'll take any thing ! — Not so 

some threescore hungry, ragged relations, they'll take 
possession of that beautiful tenement {pointing to the 
chateau) ; and Ulrica — sweet Ulrica — will take pos- 
session of this beautiful tenement {himself). And 
then — Oh, my dear Christopher ! how you do lone for 
the wedding day I 

SONG — CHRISTOPHER. 

I. 

ril tap at her door when the morning shall break, 
And with the first lark I'll be singing ; 

ril whisper quite soft, " Now, my dear love awake, 
^* For the church bells are merrily ringing. 



16 FREE [Reynolds 

*' The bridegroom, impatient, no longer can rest : 

" Thebridemen and bridemaids quite smartly are drest; 

" The drums and the fifes so cheerily play, 

" The shepherds all channt a gay roundelay ; 

" With garlands of roses fair damsels advance, 

" The young and the old partake in the dance ; 

" Such mirth and such rapture never were known ; 

" I'm surprisM that so long you will tarry : 
** I prithee, Ulrica — prithee, come down ; 

" For the sport of all sports is — to marry." 

U 

When home we return, we'll sit down to feast, 

Our friends shall behold us with pleasure ; 
She'll sip with my lord — Pll drink with the priest, 

We'll laugh and we'll quaff without measure. 
The toast and the joke shall go joyfully round, 
W^ith love and good-humor the roojn shall resound ; 
The slipper be hid — the stocking let fall, 
And rare blindman's-buff shall keep up the ball ; 
W^hil'st the merry spinette, and the sweet tambourine, 
Shall heighten and peri'ect the gay festive scene, 
Such mirth and such rapture never were known, 

I'm surpris'd that so long you will tarry: 
I prithee, Ulrica — prithee, come down ; 

For the sport of all imports is — to marry. 

[exit info chateau 
SCENE III — a splendid gothic hall in the baron's 

chateau — large folding doors in the centre — tzco 

state chairs are brought on by two of the baron's ser' 

'sants. 

enter nAVExsEURc. 

Razens. To-day, to swear the dire terrific oath, 
*' and on to-morrow be the nuplials solemnized," In 
all — in all — must Ravensburg be sacrificed ? He must — 
his father has committed him ! pledged by his promise 
to accept the fair Ulrica's hand, shall J, perchance, des- 
troy her prospects and her hopes, by basely now re- 



Act I] KNIGHTS 17 

trading? No — though love for Agnes occupies my 
breast, still is there room for honorable feeling ! and 
be the conflict great as was the last, that feeling shall 
prevail! this hand shall be Ulrica's — unless — there! 
there's my hope ! now, at the banquet, she besought a 
private interview ; and whilst the festive scene engages 
all, I've stolen forth to give her here the meeting. 
What, what would she impart? — and why delay? oh, 
were her lidings welcome, she would not thus withhold 
them! 

enter agnes, hastily^ not seeing ravenseurg, 

Agnes. I cannot comprcliend ! the prince to gaze on 
me with such emotion ! wildly exclaim, '•• the sight of 
her is hateful !" and, wUh the baron, leave the banquet, 
to be told the whole of my sad history — 'tis well ! I 
shall not suifer by the truth ; for as 1 guess, mine is a 
story to excite more of compas-^'on than resentment. 

Mavens. Agnes ! speak — what of the prince ? 

Agnes. Nothing, my Lord ; he would know my 
story, would be told that l,an infant, friendless, father- 
less, was nursed and cherished by the baron Ravens- 
burg, who, like the rest, of late has met me with such 
altered looks ! but 'tis of late ! for years he called me 
his adopted child ; and you my benefactor's son, bear 
witness 1 banish from my mind the present change and 
dvv'ell with gratitude on past affection. 

Rarc7is. Tis his new friend, this artful, envious 
countess ! till she became your foe — 

Agnes. I know ; and how have I offended ? still I've 
endeavor'd to obey and please her, and her niece, the 
fair, the happy— sir, I forget — 1 came by her desire — 
the countess having heard of her intention, will not al- 
low of any private interviews, and therefore 'tis Ulrica's 
wish, that, as to-morrow is the nuptial day, the day 
which blesses her, but which — (hirsts into tears) — I 
can no more — spare! spare ! and pity me ! 

Ravens. Proceed I for, if ! know Ulrica's heart, you 
are not messenger of any tidings ungracious to yourself* 



18 FREE [Reynolds 

Agnes, Indeed, 1 know not — she was, as she has 
ever been, most kind and most compassionate ; but, to 
her wish — she begs you will comply with what is here 
requested — take it — {giving Mm a letter) — and the hard 
office o'er, farewell until to-morrow ! and then, no sis- 
ter's prayers did e'er more pure and fervent flow, than 
mine shall then, for yours and your Ulrica's happiness. 

Ravens, (having opened the letter) Stay ! (reading) 
" Shall I accept his hand, whose heart 1 perceive to 
be another's ? and can I wish him to accept mine, 
who, from early education, am better suited to a far 
more humble sphere ? no, generous Ravensburg ! re- 
monstrate with your father, and increase the esteem of 
Ulrica, by wiping away tears, which flow from silent, 
genuine passion ! hearts such as yours and Agnes' can 
best reward each other." Exalted woman ! I will re- 
monstrate with my father — now, instantly, and come 
what will, no nuptials shall be solemnized, but those 
which love shall crown — {taking her hand) — if you re- 
fute not what Ulrica writes. 

Agnes. My lord, 'twere aifectation to deny what this 
our mutual and unequall'd friend has now revealed ; 
but for the rest ! if I am worthy of the son's affection, 
remember, that I owe it to the father ; and great, how- 
ever great the sacrifice, still would I rather meet that 
son's displeasure, than plant a sting in the protecting 
breast, that warm'd and nourished a forsaken orphan. 

Ravens. My father will relent! hark! becomes! 
the banquet o'er, new revelry succeeds, and now 1 can 
partake its joys. Come, the hope that dawns shall lead 
to lasting sunshine. 

enter the baron's train, and the prince's train — th* 
'prince and baron last, and together. 

Prince, {aside to the baron) That is her history ? 
You have imparted all ? 
Baron. That — that is Agnes Lindorfs story. 
Prince. And none — none know it ! 
Baron. None — I've kept it secret, even from her- 



Act I] KNIGHTS 19 

self; because, at first, the circumstance exciting interest, 
I fear'd to lose what might supply a dau^^hter's loss ; 
and, since, not wishing to increase an orphan's suffer- 
ing — 

Prince, (starting., on seeing Agnes) Behold again ! 
again it flashes on my mind full confirmation. Take, 
take her from my sight ! Yet, no — that may create sus- 
picion, and Walbourg! Walbourg will, 'ere long re- 
turn. Oh! were he come! for every moment is an 
age, till I'm secure ! (half aside) 

Baron. Walbourg! gone! where, my liege ? 
Prince, {angrily) No matter, sir — let the dread in- 
terval be filled with these your care-destroying sports. 
Come, strike ! 

{prince and baron seat themselves, and the other 
characters are ranged on each side) 
dance, 
in the tnidst of which a loud knocking is heard, ac- 
companied by trumpets without. All shozo alarm, 
except the prince, %oho expresses secret satisfaction* 

(music changes 
folding doors are thrown open by Walbourg, who entm 
ers, and points to a black banner, fixed into tht 
ground, on which is written, in golden letters, 

*" AGiVKS LINDORF ! APPEAR BEFORE THE FREE 
NIGHTS.'' 

{Agnes stands motionless with terror, then runs wild- 
ly about^ appealing to the different characters — the 
Prince menaces — all point to the banner, turn away, 
and exeunt except Ravensburgh, zcho is following, 
when Agnes clings to him, and detains him. 
Agnes. You ! you will not forsake me ! Grant, 
grant me but a look ! 

Ravens. Avoid me ! shun me ! 
Agnes. I swear by him, to whom all crimes are 
known, I know no more of what I am accused, than 
does the ne^v-born babe ! But think ! oh think ! I am 
accused by those, whose names strike terror through 
the world, and who, by solemn and terrific oaths, are 



30 FREE [Reynolds 

bound to execute such dreadful deeds, {Ranensburgh 
trembles violently) that you, whose nature must revolt 
at such barbarity ! you, my kind, only friend ! (fall- 
ing on his shoulder.) 

Ravens. Fly ! swift — escape ! {passing her across 
him.) Where? (stopping her.) Whither! who can 
elude the penetrating eye of their deep.searching ven- 
geance ? and if you answer not that awful mandate ! 
All gracious powers ! {turning aside) — I am forbid- 
den to advise, nay, even converse with the accused ! 
And yet, Agnes ! (turning tozcards her) though my 
whole heart be with thee — farewell ! farewell ! [ew- 
bracing her. 

enter., immediately^ prince palatine. 

Prince. False, perjured Ravensburgh ! {parting 
them.) Away ! and, but that consciousness of guilt 
prevails, why, traitress ! why this coward fear ? tried 
and acquitted by this high tribunal, your friends shall 
welcome you with added honor ! but if you rashly dis- 
obey the summons, your death is certain, and you 
doom those friends — mark that — you doom, perhaps, 
your dearest friends, to turn assassins, and destroy that 
life, which, but for selfish and for dastard terror, had 
been preserved to bless them. 

[AgneSy eagerly regarding Ravensburgh xcho shows 
extreme agitation.'] 

Agnes. 1 see ! it breaks ! it bursts upon my mind • 
and though none know where the free nights meet, aU 
are acquainted with their dreaded forms ; and soon^ 
and soon will a minister of vengeance come — {crosses 
to Ravensburg) — to summon the accused, {trumpets) 
My Lord — take courage ! Vm no more a coward. 
{she takes Ravensburg^s hand.) Feel— do I tremble ? 
am i by selfish terror infiuenced ? no, mighty sir, {to 
the prince,) behold what conscious innocence effects ! 
And see, where sympathy and pity prompts, a woman's 
spirit emulates your own. {embraces Ravenshirgh.) « 



Act I] KNlOHTS 21 

Farewell, kind, generous friend ! Now, heaven pro- 
tect, and guard rne ! 

Imusic. — Ravensburg would detain Agnes — the 
prince prevents him — a Free Knight appears on 
the terrace — Agnes, all animation ^ points to the free 
knight — also blesses Ravensburg — Ravensburg int' 
ploves heaven in her favor, — Agnes exit rapidly, 
and Ravensburg is partly persuaded, and partly 
forced off\ by the prince Palatine. 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT n. 

SCENE I — an apartment in the baron's chateau — a 
door leading back to a chamber. 

ENTER CHRISTOPHER hastily, through a side door* 

Chris. Not here either ! — no where to be met with * 
bless my soul ! now I am in the house, I might as well 
be out of it ; for 1 can't find aunt or cousin ; and the 
fine company here seem all out of their senses. One 
pushes me and t'other pushes me, and till I'm sure I'm 
iine company myself, it won't do for me to push again. 
Countess ! — where are you, aunt countess ? do come, 
and make me fine company ! oh lord ! I'll try this 
door (goes back ;) and I should be haif afraid she kept 
out of the way because she was ashamed of me, only 
I know aunt has no pride — not a bit of the gentlewo- 
man about her. lexit affectedly into the chamber, 

ENTER COUNTESS ROLAND, leading in ULRICA 

through the side door. 

Countess. There ! and, now, whilst I return, and 
consult with the baron, I'll take care nobody consuitt 
with you. [taking the key out of the door. 

Ulrica. Heaveos ! what have I done, aunt ? 

Countess. What have you not done ? and till you're 
C 



22 FREE [Reynolds 

vife to Raven sburg, this and the adjoining chamber 
shall be your prison — it shall ! for even if the great 
young count Roland were to offer marriage, who 
knows but you may write to him about — *' bum- 
ble sphere," and " early education," Write ! — non- 
sense ! — why, here 1 am who never wrote a letter ia 
my life. 

Ulrica. This my prison ! aunt, my dear aunt, if I 
have long sickened at this scene of splendid misery, 
and sigh'd for your sister's calm cottage in Franconia, 
what must I now, when poor Agnes, and this fright- 
ful tribunal 

Countess, My sister's cottage ! 

Ulrica. And my cousin Christopher! 

Countess. How ! again, again insult me with this 
low relationship! I'm gone, madam — Christopher re- 
enters behind, smiles^ rubs his hands, and stops at 
the door, and listens) gone to prepare for your mar- 
riage with a man of my own rank, madam. And once 
more take notice, I disclaim, I disown the whole fran- 
conia family ; and if any poor cousin, niece, or nephew, 
attempt to hang on me, depend on't they shall hang 
on something more substantial. Oh ! by way of ex- 
ample, only let me catch one of them — just that this 
frightful tribunal may catch, rack, and torture him in- 
to confession of his own and your presumption. 

[exit, and violently locking the door after her. 

Chris, {groaning loudly) Oh ! h I h ! 

Ulrica, {half turning round) A man ! a strange 
help I 

Chris, (advancing, and trying to stop her mouth) 
Do'nt ! 

Ulrica, {breaking from him, without seeing his 
face) Aunt ! come back, aunt ! 

Countess, {without) Not I, I promise you. 

Chris. Thank ye — thank ye kindly, aunt ! {fanning 
himself with his hat) and if this be your style of pro- 
viding for your family, thank you also for disowning 
the relationship ; but you, cousin, though you are go- 



Act II] KNIGHTS 23 

ing la be married to a man of rank, won't you take 
pity on your old play-fellow, Christopher, who having 
heard of aunt's promotion, came, in hopes of getting 
into high life ; and who certainly will get into high 
life, {pulling up his collar) if you dont keep him from 
being caught, rack'd and tortured by oh ! lord ! 

Ulrica. Christopher ! cousin Christopher ! and come 
io see his aunt, the countess ! very well, sir ; you 
didn't come to see Ulrica, then ? 

Chris. Eh ! 

Ulrica. You didn't come to see her who's already 
caught — lock'd up — because she dont choose an une- 
qual marriage ; and who, notwithstanding her dress 
and appearance, is the same simple-hearted creature 
you left her, sir; but since you're alter'd, sir, since 
you forget your former humble 

Chris, (half crying) I dont — I'm as simple as ever 
and if I thought you were not joking — but you are — 
(looking close in her face) yes — no — ( Ulrica smiles) 
she's the same kind hearted — 

Ulrica. I am ; — and were we but in our native A'il- 
lage, Christopher — 

Chris. We'd send for a priest, buy a little land, 
make money, make love, and have such a happy lire- 
side! 

DUETT — CHRISTOPHER, ULRICA. 

Chris. When a little farm we keep, 

And have little girls and boys, 
With little pigs and sheep, 
To make a little noise — 
Oh ! what happy, merry days we'll sec * 

Ulrica, Then we'll keep a little maid, 
And a little man beside ; 
And a little horse and pad, 

To take a little ride, 
With the children sitting on our knee. 



U FREE IReynold* 

Chris. The boys I'll conduct, 
U/rica,The girls I'll instruct; 
Chris. In reading I'll engage, 

Each son is net deficient ; 
Ulrica, In music, I presage, 

Each girl is a proficient. 
Chris, Now, boy, your A, B, C ! 
Ulrica. Now, girl, your solfa ! 

( Ulrica mimics teaching a girl to sing, and Chris- 
topher a boy to read) 

Both. When a little farm we keep, &c. 

Chris. Charming ! delightful ! 

Ulrica. Very ! only you forget one thing — you for- 
get we are both lock'd up; and if aunt finds us to- 
gether, it will maUe''bad so much worse. Mercy on 
me ! how could you get in here! 

Chris, Mercy on me! how am I to get out here? 
and my time's up with the count ! 

Ulrica, What count ? 

Chris. Why, mother, who formerly got this un- 
grateful aunt made housekeeper to old count Roland, 
you know, has lately got me into the young count's 
retinue ; and he is killing game in the neighboring 
woods, and I'm — {noise of unlocking the door) killed 
myself! oh, lord! there's only one chance — aunt can't 
know me — she hasn't seen me since I became a man ; 
but, then, you cousin ! — if I am a man ! shall I, like a 
base, selfish — no — it mounts ! — the Roland blood 
mounts high within me ! {noise) 

Ulrica, Hush ! I rely on him they select to be my 
husband — his heart's elsewhere — and by securing your 
own escape note, you may hereafter effect mine, (door 
opens) The baron ! our enraged host ! — now, what's 
to be done now ! [Christopher retires 

enter baron ravensburg and Oliver, 

Oliver. I tell you, my lord, I'm so sure Agnes will 
be found innocent — but I'm silent. 



Act II] KNIGHTS 25 

Baron. Be silent, then ! — and for j^ou, madum, I 
came to tell you that the priest is sent for, and my son 
is sent for ; and 1 sha'nt stir out of this room, till 1 wit- 
ness the glorious union of the Rolands and the Kavens- 



burgh 

Ulrica, {archly) Your son ! your son is absent, then ? 

Baron. He is ; bat the countess has undertaken to 
see him brought home ; and I dont know who she al- 
ludes to, but it seems she talks of catching more trouble- 
some people, {here Ulrica makes sis^ns to Ch) istopher 
to be gone, and he steals towards the side door) And 
so, Oliver! bring me a chair, old Oliver — ( Oliver gives 
him one) for here I'll sit. {Christopher is opening the 
door, -ichcii the baron hears him) Why, what's that? 
{in his ovjlaiion, Christojoher turns sharply rounds 
and faces the baron, holding the door xcide open in his 
/land) zounds! where do you come from? 

Chris. Come! 1 come from — {amazed) 

Baron. Ay, what brings you here, sir? and dont — 
dont stand staring there with the door open. Either 
(beating h's cane violently against the Jloor) cither 
pome in, or go out. 

Chris. Out, if you please, sir. \exit 

Baron, {pulling him back) Stop — this won't do — 
Jiow came you in my house? 

Chris, {confused) Came ! why I came from young 
count Rowland, sir. 

Baron. Oh, you want to seethe countess, then? 

Chris, Thank ye, 1 have seen her ; and as her an- 
swer isn't at all satisfactory, I hope shortly to return, 
and take something much more satisfactory, {looking 
significantly at Ulrica, and going — Ulrica nods in 
return) 

Oliver, {coming bctzccen him and the door) I dare 
say you do ; but— he, he, he ! the little old butler will 
prevent you. My lord, just now, instead of a message 
from count Roland, this fellow talk'd of your keeping 
low company. ( Christopher shakes his head to stop 
him) You did ! you actually hinted, that one of our 
C 2 



26 PREE [Reynolds 

fine ladies was no better than old Winifred Winbuttle, 
a housekeeper — 

Baron. Dolt! blockhead! (^o Christopher) when, 
except this untitled girl, there is not one plain lady, no, 
nor one real gentlewoman in the whole party ; and she, 
as heiress, and sole relation of the high-born countess 
Roland 

Chris, The sole relation of who ? 

Baron. The high-born countess Roland ! 

Chris, {eagerly) What! you havn't heard — the 
heiress dare not even hint — oh ho ! {looking at Ulrica^ 
who beckons him to go) But I won't stay, else 1 could 
tell you, that if you and your son had purses as long as 
the dead pedigree of the Ravensburgs, they wouldn't 
be half long enough for the live pedigree of the high- 
born countess Roland ! and as her relations will shortly 
be yours, I'll send express for some few dozens from 
Franconia, who'll now have two strings to their bow ; 
for if cousin Winifred Winbuttle dont keep open 
house for them, ecod ! cousin baron Ravensburg must. 
And so, yours my lord, yours madam : and there — 
{whispering Oliver) there's a Roland for your Oliver, 
my little twaddling old butler. [exit 

Baron. Send express for a few dozens ! without 
there! stop that scoundrel! Ulrica, what is all this? 
speak — 1 insist on an explanation. 

Ulrica. So do I, sir — I insist on an explanation, and 
I will have one, if I follow that impudent fellow to the 
world's end. 

Baron. Stay where you are. In, in, if you please. 

Ulrica, {trying to pass him) Out, out, if you please. 
{mimicking Christopher) 

Baron. Oliver, be you her guard, whilst I pursue 
this false, this infamous — 

Ulrica, {getting between him and the door) Stay* 

SONG — ULRICA. 

I. 

Sure woman's to be pitied 
Whepever she's committed. 



Act II] KNIGHTS 27 

For being fond and gay ; 
And those who cry out ^' fcharae !" 
Are very much to blame — 
That's all I say. 

II. 

I never could discover 
Why listening to a lover 

Throughout the live-long day, 
Should be miscali'd offence, 
it is not common sense — 
That's all I say. 

III. 

But though the old and haughty 
Pretend tis very naughty, 

They think a different way ; 
For this, 1 know, is true, 
They do as others do — 

That's all 1 say. [exeNni 

SCENE II — a xavlted cavern belonging to the free 
knights — nearly in the centre a large brazen door, 
in the archway a parapet, and occasional apertures 
in the broken fragments of the rock. 

€nter everard, haslily, through the doorway. 

Ever. This, this the far-famed colirt so long extoll'd 
for fair investigation! poor Agnes Lindorfl unheard 
thou art condemned, prejudged, thy judges will de- 
cree thee guilty, and this, thy trial, is no more than 
the mere mockery of justice ! but I have held converse 
with the young lord Ravensburg, and if he follow an 
old soldier's counsel, there may be still some hope, that 
the accused shall vanquish the accuser. 

tnter zastrow, bearing ^gnes, xoho is senseless, in 
his arms— he places her on a piece of broken rock 
near the icing* 



28 FREE [Reynolds 

Speak, Zastrow — is she condemned ? 

Za^i. No — charge following charge* her boasted 
firmness forsook her; and fainting, as supposed, from 
conscious guilt, she was dismiss'd: but soon her sen- 
tence will be known, and all foresee the vengeance that 
awaits the count Manfredi's daughter. 

Ever. Manfredi's daughter ! 

Zast. Ay, that italian traitor, who, on the Danube's 
banks destroyed the treasure he was bound to guard, 
and she, [turning toivards Jgnes) imbibing the same 
kindred hate for those whom loyalty should make her 
love, late at the banquet of the baron Ravensburg, in- 
fused a poisonous mixture in the draught of our loved 
prince: but he, detecting her intent, the death, thank 
heaven, she design'd for him, will soon recoil upon 
herself. 

Ever, And he, the prince, is her accuser ! mark 
you that? 

Zast. 1 do. 

Ever. Then mark, (pointing to Agnes) is that the 
countenance of guilt ? 

Zast. How, Everard! when even Ravensburg, her 
benefactor's son, now loudly in the open court took 
part against her. ( Everard s/iows emotion) He did ; — 

and thereby so increased the prince's admiration ; 

look ! he*s here ! 

enier ravensburg, hastily, in the dress of a free 
knight^ with a paper in his hand^ followed by two 
free knights. 

Ravens* Where is the traitress ? where the daughter 
of Manfredi ? 

Agnes, {starting up) That voice! still, still does it 
pursue nue? my lord! (in a petitioning manner) 

Ravens. Stand of! 

Agnes, This! this from Ravensburg! [bursts into 
tears) 

Ravens. Tis past — it is pronounced! read — read 
that awfai v/arrant. 



Act IIJ KNIGHTS 29 

Agnes, {taking it, but not looking at it) Tis past 
indeed ! but e'er I meet my death, 1 swear by him 
who shall for ever live, that 1 would rather be the 
culprit thus condemn'd, than those who have con- 
demn'd me : for ihey, not I, must answer for a life 
unjustly sacrificed ! and when deprived of utterance 
and of senst;, think not twas consciousness of guilt 
o'ercame me! no, twas to hear myself accused by him, 
who, still persisting in his cruelty. Why — where- 
fore should I live ? since he, since he is lost ! I am 
most thankful for this final — (casting her eyes on th& 
zcarrant) Heavens! how! [reading it apart) "Per- 
ceiving you were prejudged, I opposed, to save you. 
The free knight who conducts you to the solitary cell, 
from which tis meant that you should ne'er return, 
knows of a secret passage. Confide in him, and your 
devoted Ravensburg." 

Ravens, (fiercely) Well ! have you read? — 

Jgnes, {icith stiffled feeling) 1 have, and I repeat, 
1 am most thankful, sir. 

Ravens, (to Everard) Conduct her to her cell — 
you know the rest — away, and quick return ; for as 
his highness passes from the court, he must be told 
the traitress is secured. 

Ever. He shall, my lord. 

Ravens, Away ! (Agnes is about to thank Lavens- 
hurg, by kneeling to h'lm^ when by action he recalls her 
recollection) Away! (Everard and Agnes exeunt — 
Zastruw and other knights are following — Ravens- 
burg stops them) Let none follow; he is alone suf- 
ficient to secure a willing victim. 

Zast. (obsercing) Ha! 

enter prince and train^ through the doorway. 

Prince, {looking earnestly around) How ! gone ! 
tis well ! for she recalls such dreadful scenes, that, 
coward-like, I sicken at her sight. — But whither gone ? 
who was her guard ? 



30 FREE Reynolds 

Ravens. A loyal and a chosen knight ; they know 
him well, and saw him lead her to her cell. 

Zast. We did, my liege ; but tis my duty to impart, 
as one of equal loyalty and honor 

Ravens, (hastily interrupting him) Peace! he re- 
turns ! 

EVERARD re enters. 
Prince, {to Everard) Now, to your office, sir! 
speak, is the traitress safe? 

Ever. Quite, quite safe, my liege, {looking at 
Ravensburg., who shows joy, aside) 

Zast. {aside to the prince) My liege, you are de- 
ceived. Mark'd you their dark mysterious looks ? 

Prince. How! more conspiracy? can none, not e'en 
free knights be trusted ? and I, who would avoid the 
hated sight — must I, myself well, tis but one des- 
perate effort more. Come, follow. 

{7nusic — Agnes is seen escaping through the aper» 
tures — she makes signs to Ravensburg, who, un- 
seen by the prince and train, returns them — 
Everard partakes in thdrjoy — the prince com- 
mands all to march) [exeunt 

SCENE III — a wood, 
enter falconers, severally* 

\si falc. Where is my lord ? where is count Ro- 
land ? 

2d falc, Gixing his orders for to-morrow's journey- 

1st falc. What, our departure then isfix'd ? 

2d falc. It is: to-morrow we set off for Corbey, 
there to sojourn awhile with my lord's friend, marquis 
Albert! . 

enter count roland, followed by two falconers. 

Count. Come, brother falconers, break up our ru- 
ral camp, give the hawks wing, and let another day 
of pure exhilarating pastime crown those we have en» 
joyed. 



Act II] KNIGHTS ^l 

SONG — COUNT ROLAND. 
I. 

When the morning shines forth, and the zephyrs calm 

gale 
Carries fragrance and health over mountain and dale, 
Follow me, brother falconers, and share in those joys. 
Which envy disturbs not, nor grandeur destroys : 
Up hill, down the valley, all dangers we'll dare, 
While our coursers spurn earth, and our hawks sail in air. 
Dash on, my brave birds, 

Your quarry pursue ; 
*' Strike, strike !*' be the words. 
Lalleugh ! lalleugh! 

II. 

O'er plain, heath, and woodland, with rapture we roam. 
Yet, returning, still find the dear pleasure at home ; 
Where inspiring good humor gives honesty grace, 
And the heart speaks content in the smiles of the face. 
Dash on, &c. 

Count. To-day concludes our sylvan holiday, {going) 
Why, who comes here ? as I live, my merry falconer, 
Christopher ! and I'm impatient to he told the issue of 
his curious enterprize. Ha, ha, ha ! to know if he's 
related to the house of Roland — 

enter Christopher. 

Well, Christopher, am I to call you cousin ? 

Chris. You are, my lord ; and with your leave I 
sha'n't copy our aunt the countess's example, and not 
notice those beneath us. No, How d'ye do, my fine 
fellows — how d'ye do? (bowing foppishly to the fal- 
coners) 

Count. Aunt ! — ridiculous ! my uncle had no wife, 
I've heard, indeed, he had a consequential housekeep- 
er, whose niece, Ulrica, I once saw. 

Chris, What, you've seen Ulrica ? so have I, my 



32 FREE [Reynolds 

lord : and though its bold work, life's so short, and 

love's so fidgetty, mayn't U mayn't I see her again, 

my lord ? 

Count. What, you'd return ? ( Christopher nods as- 
sent) Then go — go, and announce to marquis Alberti, 
that I shall visit him to-night. Mind, to-night ! I will 
hear more of this new aunt of mine. 

C/tris. {with great glee) Tonight, ray lord? and 
you, and you {to the falconers) 

Count, And all. And therefore, till we meet at 
Corbey abbey, adieu, most noble cousin Chiistopher ! 

1st Sf 2dfalc. {bowing with ironical respect) Adieu, 
most noble nephew of the countess Roland! 

Chris, Noble indeed ! and give me money, and a 
wife, see if I dont support nobility — I'll give such 
splendid entertainments 

Count. What, and like town-bred, ostenstalious no* 
bles ; only to splendid company ? 

Chris. Certainly not, my lord ; for your splendid 
company seldom invite again ; and therefore I'll stick 
more to the trading line, where tis not giving dinners, 
but lending them, to be repaid at high bill of fare in- 
terest ; and so, till we meet at Corbey, adieu, most 
noble cousin ! [exit 

Count. Now for our sport, which ends not in the 
field. 

GLEE, 
I. 



And falconers further sport decline ; 
When ploughmen from their fields repair, 
And mournful night-birds rend the air, 
Then give me wine : 
And at home the chase shall reign, 
For in wine it lives again. 

II. 

When loud the chilling tempest blows, 
And winter makes all nature pine 5 



ActllJ KNIGHTS 33 

When lowing herds, and rooks and crows 
Do droop and moan at frost and snows, 

Then give me wine, &.c. [exeunt 

SCENE IV — the garden of Corbey abbey ^ with gateSj 
over zch'ich is a projecling tablet, with an inscrip* 
t'wn ntarly effaced — in the back^ an ascending ave- 
nue through pine trees — in the centre a statue of 
Charlemagne— on the base of which is written, 
" Charlemagne graiits the power of sanctuary and 
of pardon to the abbots of Corbey for ever^ 

enter bernardo and st. CLAm from the abbey. 

St. Clair. Nay, brother, you're to blame. The 
church, the couri, all Germany, applaud the proud 
election of the monk Bellarmin ; for Corbey abbey 
was too long disgraced by our late worldly abbot's 
X'ices. 

Bern. And our new abbot will retrieve its fame. 
The monk Bellarmin has no worldly vice. Speak, for 
I know him not, 

St Clair. Not know Bellarmin ! 

Bern, I know some fourteen years are past, since, 
in the dead of night, a stranger, faint with terror and 
distress, implored av«sislance at our abbey gate, and, 
in return for our protecting care, since join'd our or- 
der, [ know, besides, that stranger is Bellarmin. 
But for the rest, what means that pallid cheek, the 
hollow eye, and those stern gloomy looks, repelling 
sympathy, creating strong disgust 

St. Clair. Peace, peace, Bernardo ! — he may have 
suffered wrongs, but never has committed them ; and 
firm in conscious dignity and honor, Bellarmin may 
have sprit to revive what former abbots, truckling to 
authority ; what servile priesthood, dreading lordly 
power, so long has suffcr'd to lie dormant — the edict 
of our mighty founder, the edict of immortal Charle- 
magne ! {pointing to the tablet) 

Bern. He, our new abbot ! he restore our abbey'» 
D 



31 FREE [Reynolds 

ancient and peculiar charter ! {pointing to the tablet) st. 
Clair, he dare not, for guilt and courage ne'er had 
joint abode. 

St. Clair. Guilt ! 

Berz. Ay ; why, ever, else, on naming the return of 
our brave warriors from the Holy land, does he betray 
such latent anger ? and, when, last night, twas thought 
their presence would increase the glory of his installa- 
tion why such avowed and rancorous opposition ? he 
bears about him hidden discontent, and I will fathom 
to the lowest depth this most mysterious being ! mark ! 
he comes ! observe! observe ! {they retire up the stage) 

enter ABBOT, through theavenue. 

Abhot. Oh thou ! who knowest my undivulged 
thoughts ! who knowest how long and fervently I've 
prayed to root from memory all suffering past, and 
dwell with gratitude on present blessings, let me but 
practise what I daily preach, thy brightest attribute 
forgiveness, and wronged Bellarmin shall convince 
the world, that though their censure stung him to the 
heart, he feels their kindness with redoubled warmth! 
he does I the knawing viper is, at last, extinct ! and 
this auspicious day is herald of his future calm repose I 
St, Clair. Now, now, Bernardo, where's the dis- 
content? [advancing tozcards the abbot) My lord, 
well met ! and whilst all bless the hour the emperor 
ratified our choice, we much rejoice your honors cease 
not with your late election. To day installs you in 
your envied seat ; to morrow shall behold you still 
more graced ; for the free knights shall then elect 
you to the highest rank in their exalted council ! 

Bern. Aye ; in that sacred council which our holy 
lurotherhood so reverence, and so dread. 

Abbot. Tis well — tis well. Thus chosen abbot of 
your own free will, not by my seeking, as ye all can 
witness ; for this, and greater favors past, I'm bound 
for ever to obey, and serve ye ! to day, I'll welcome 
Ibese, our sacred rites ; to morrow, far more awful 



Act II] KNIGHTS ■ 35 

ceremony ! I will descend to the mysterious knights, 
and prove to those, who vest me with authority, no 
selfish passion lurks within my breast ! tispast ! it is 
subdued ! and whilst life lasts, I will devote that life to 
ever crushing my own narrowed wishes, and courting 
the superior joy of aiding and promoting general wel- 
fare. 

Voice, {without) Help! for mercy ! help! 

Abbot. The voice of one distressed ! unbar the gates 
— give them free entrance. 

\st. Clair opens the gate Agnes rushes in'\ 

Agnes, (falling at the abbot" s feet) Protect me ! save 
me! I'm pursued, o'ertaken ! 

Bern, {sullenly) Pursued! 

Agnes. No — not pursued — I scarce know what I 
utter — my friend, my kind protecting friend ! who was 
conducting me through yonder forest, compelled to 
leave me by strong urgent circumstance, bade me seek 
shelter in this holy pile, till one he named could hasten 
to my relief — and you'll consent ! you pious men must 
feel, that virtue never seems more lovely, than when 
her arm is stretched to raise the helpless and unfortu- 
nate. 

Abbot, {raising her) Rise ; and, till your friend ar- 
rive, confide in one, who trained in dire misfortune's 
school, can keenly feel for others. 

Bern. My lord, reflect. She owned she was pursu- 
ed, and, in these perilous, these disastrous times, 
shall strangers be thus welcomed ? 1 would hear 
further. 

Abbot, What further would you hear ? sorrow, in 
any shape, should meet with pity ; but when it suppli- 
cates in female form, we dry its tears, nor wait to ask 
what caused them ! unknown ! unquestioned, I found 
welcome here, and none yet know the story of my 
wrongs; why, therefore, pry into her hidden grief? 
lis harsh, it is unmanly ! come. 

{trumpet sounds without) 

Bern. Now, who was harsh in forewarning ? know 



36 FREE [Reynolds 

ye that awful sound ? know ye the free knights' sum- 
mons ? {goes to the abbey gate) Come forth, and vindi- 
cate the cause of those who justify the christian faith. 
{monks enter from the abbey) JLo ! the accused ! 

(pointing to Agnes) 

Agnes, {to abbey) Do not desert me ! on my soul 
I'm innocent. 

Abbot, {who has turned from her) Away ! you have 
profaned our hallowed ground ! and thus, pursued by 
those, whose mandates all submissive sanction, 1 am no 
more your friend. Begone ! 

Agnes, {clinging to him) Is mine the age for plot- 
ting death by subtle poison ? is mine the sex for trea- 
son and conspiracy ? and if I am the daughter of the 
count Manfredi, am I to answer for my wretched 
father's crimes ? 

Abbot. Manfredi's daughter ! 

(turning touards her with emotion) 

Bern, (opening the garden gate) Behold ! read 
there ! {pointing to the banner and reading) " con- 
demned traitress ! agnes Manfiedi appear!" 

Abbot. Manfredi had no daughter ! speak, e'er my 
brain burst ! his name the name of your accuser? 

Agnes, I dread to utter it, for all approve what the 
prince Palatine affirms. 

Abbot, {apart) I thought it was subdued — I said 
the gnawing viper was extinct ; but since it cross my 
path again, may the fulfillment of this new attrocious 
act be most important to his purpose ! for let the vassal 
world bow down to his imperious will, alone, I'll blast 
the deadly scorpion's wiles, and snatch one victim 
from his fiend-like fury ! Manfredi's daughter ! false ! 
false as your accuser's heart ! and knowing that, tis 
joy ! tis transport to protect you ! 

{taking Agnes^ hand) 

St. Clair, Horror ! protect her ! 

£ern. All gracious powers ! thus in defiance of our 
lacred Champions ! 

Abbott Hear me ! if the tribunal be composed of 



Act II] KNIGHTS 37 

high, unblemished, and enlightened minds, who meet 
to render free impartial justice, however ungracious be 
their forms, those forms twere idle to oppose ; but if 
they thus condemn — if private malice beat down pub- 
lic good — if made a vehicle to gratify tyrannic power, 
they prove a midnight sanguinary band; I, sacred 
champion of the christian cause, will give a bright ex- 
ample of its justice, by baffling those who prpstitute its 
name. 

Bern. This is Bellarmin ! this the pious monk ! 
who boasted of promoting general weltare, and now 
commences his career by plunging us in ruin. But 
shall we patiently submit to be involved in his most 
impious rashness ? or shall we instantly dismiss the 
culprit? and, as we ought, give the free knights the 
quickest means of vengeance ? 

St. Clair. For this ingratitude, all join Bernardo, 

Bern, [seeing that all take part with him) All ! 

Abbot. Hold ! I implore ye' my motives known, 
no censure will await me ! but, till they are, confide 
in one who, if before he felt unceasing gratitude for all 
your kindness, what must he now ? when, like your- 
selves, he can exalt his abbey's fame, by once more 
sheltering in its holy walls, a wrong'd, unhappy, per- 
secuted being ! 

Agnes, {appealing to the monks) Unhappy ! most 
unhappy ! 

Bern. In vain — in vain ; for every where the free 
knights see — and seeing, every where approach, and 
oft by such mysterious pa'ths, that magic like, they 
flash on the pursued — hark ! behold ! (a party of free 
knights are seen descending the avenue of pi7ie trees) 
(xuard well the gate ! for all who seek not to secure 
the culprit, partake the crime, and share in the destruc- 
tion, 
(Zastrow advancing, his vizor half up ; the other 

knights remaining behind the trees) 

Zastv Behold ! the traitress ! 

Abbot, {coming between Zastrow and Agnes) On 
D 2 



58 FREE [Reynolds 

one false charge condemned, I trust, I'm confident of 

all she's innocent. {Zastrovo still advancing) Nay, ye, 
who boast yourselves avenging knights, recall those 
chivalrous heroic times, when knight hoods lance 
avenged a better cause, and flew to guard, and not to 
destroy, such helplessness ! reflect, beside, that love 
for what's divine {pointing to heaven) inspires the soul 
with love for what is human ! and whilst religion, with 
the brightning sun, shines forth to gladden and im- 
prove, dark superstition, hke the cankering blight, in- 
fects and withers every social hope ! you pass not fur- 
ther — on my life you pass not ! 

Zast. Advance ! {free nights rush forzcard^ and 
seize Agnes) and as ye are commanded (pointing ta 
the banner) strike ! 

Abbot. And as ye are commanded (pointing to tht 
Inscription on the statue of Charlemange) spare ! 
you know my power ! {to the monks) you know the 
edict of our mighty founder, victorious Charlemagne! 
who, in return for laurels won upon this spot, first rais- 
ed our abbey, to commemorate conquest ; and soon 
endowing it with right of sanctuary, next gave the 
abbot the more blest prerogative of granting pardon, 
where he saw just cause! I see it now! 1 claim my 
abbey's privilege ! 1 stand upon my founder's Edict ! 
and kings I laws ! armies ! must support the man, who 
struggling for a sacred right, asserts mankind's and 
heaven's inspiring cause ! (the free knights unioBst 
their. hold of Agnes, xcho crosses to the abbot; and the 
monks^ by their manner^ evince conviction) No more 
I sue for your support — {to the monks) — now 1 com- 
mand it ! and ye, fam'd foes to sacrilegious outrage ! 
{to the free knights) proclaim that this, my post, as- 
signed to me by providence, I will maintain, or perish 
in the conflict ! lead to the sanctuary — away ! 
{music — Agnes thanks the abbot, who cheers and en- 
courages her — free knights ascend the avenue^ and 
disapjjear — monks exeunt into the abbey, abbot foL- 
lowing with Agnes) 

END OF THE SECOJID ACT. 



Act III] KNMJHTS 39 

ACT III. 

SCENE I — viezcofcorbey abbey, open country, and 
chateau. 

enter countess rolavd and attendants. 

Countess. How fortunate ! how very fortunate ! 
ipvhilst I was in pursuit of that low wretch, called 
Christopher, I called in at the marquis Alberti's, and 
heard the welcome news, that my nephew count Ro- 
land, and his falconers were almost instantly expected! 
charming ! delightful I though 1 didn't see him when 
he visited Roland castle — though this will be our first, 
I trust it won't be our last meeting ; for, in my mind, 
his real motive is not to see the good old marquis, but 
a young fair one, called Ulrica. Oh ! if it proves as 
I suspect, I'll match these hesitating Ravensburgs! 

[going into chateau 

OLIVER enters from it. 

Oliver. Oh, madam, I'm so glad you're come, for 
what with the prince, and the baron being absent, and 
my poor Agnes not yet returned, and the poor lock'd 
up lady Ulrica yonder (pointing to a windozc in the 
chateau) sighing for her cousin Christopher ! I was 
just saying, any body's company would be better than 
nobody's. 

Countess, Cousin Christopher, the unknown impos- 
ter I'm in search of. And after I have so convinced 
the baron ! 

Oliver. I know — I know you have convinced the 
baron, that you've no poor franconia relations ; but 1 
do say, as the lady Ulrica has no objection, 1 wish 
this Christopher were her husband, (countess frowns) 
I do ; for in that case, slie not being able to marry 
my young master, and my young master being able to 
marry Agnes, 1 should see what I hav'n't seen since I 
lost my sweet Seraphina ! a real happy handsome 
«ouple. 



40 FREE [Reynolds 

Countess. Show me in, sir ; and instead of chatter- 
ing a^^out my pretended nephew Christopher, talk of 
my real nephew, count Row^land! who, though to me 
a stranger, is none to the lady Ulrica, as you call 
her ! {horns zc'ithoui) hark ! he comes ! count Roland 
comes ! and, as I thought — see ! towards Ulrica's 
residence ! to sigh and moan under his true-love's 
window ! now for it. Til just step in, and give fur- 
ther orders for pursuing this sham nephew, Christo- 
pher ; and then, if I dont match old buron Ravensburg, 
and his capricious sim, say I'm no match maker. 

[exit into chateau^ preceded by Oliver 

enter count rolanp and \st. falconer. 

Count. Behold the beauties of this far fam'd spot, 
and foremost to delight the traveller's eye, yon vene- 
rable abbey ! founded by him whose laurels shall for 
ever bloom. 

\st Falc. And see, my lord, yonder is the marquis 
Alberti's chateau. 

Count. Happy Alberli ! who having bravM the 
perils of the ocean, now iinds a haven in his faithful 
Ella's love. Oh ! I shall ne'er forget the day they 
parted, nor that tempestuous uigbt, when many a ship- 
wreck'd mariner was lost. 

SONG — COUNT. 
1. 

Says Ella to her love, *' remember, 

'- Though doom'd to part, you constant view 
*' That moon, which rises in such splendor ; 
" I too, will look; and think of you. 
" Anxious Ella shall not sleep 
*' Whilst her sailor braves the deep. 

% 

But tempestuous is the weather, 
And lovely Ella's wish iscrost. 



Act III] KNiGHTS 41 

Vain her watching nights together, 
Successive moons in clouds are lost. 
Stormy winds the forests sweep, 
"Whilst her sailor braves the deep. 



Swift to the shore she flies, complaining ; 

The tempest to her prayer is deaf; 
When lo ! that orb she's so arraigning. 
Shines forth, and shows her lover safe. 
Now no more shall Ella weep, 
For her sailor's brav'd the deep, 

enter all the falconers. 

Count, Now for my friend Alberti's, and there 
learn more of this same countess Roland, 

enter Christopher. 

Chris. My lord, I have announced your coming, and 
the marquis is all impatience. But what do you think ? 
when I sent up your lordship's message, who shou Id 
be of the party but my aunt, the countess ? and one of 
the marquis's retinue wanted me to take courage, and 
go up to her — " for" says he, •' if she has'n't seen 
you since you were a boy, and she took up your cousin, 
Ulrica, on account of her uncommon beauty, who 

knows, if she once saw you- " You understand, 

my lord— I'm certainly improved, {pulling up his 
collar.)" 

Count. Improved! so much, that at first sight, my 
life on't, you'll charm the countess. 

Chris, His words ! his Very words ! and I certain- 
ly charmed Ulrica I but then — psha ! ridiculous! — 
you all flatter ! — and aunt's there ! — {pointing to the 
Chateau.) And Ulrica's there ! and to night" makes 
her wife to that old pedigreed— f /fere the countess ap- 
pears at the door of the Chateau unobserved, looks out, 
and listens.) So go all of ye — go to the marquis Al- 



42 FREE [Reynolds 

berlTs, and leave me to sob and sigh — oh, sweet Ulri- 
ca ! — oh ! h ! ha ! 

Count. Well, as it suits — and so good night, most 
noble love sick swain. 

falc. Good night, most noble nephew of the count- 
ess Rowland, 

\_Bozcing as before^ and-aitk count exeunt falconers — 
Christopher with his back to the countess^ bows in 
return — sh^ advances from chateau all joy and tri- 
ufi^ph, and exulring/y goes towards him. 
Countess [Aside and unseen by Christopher.) So, 
most noble nephew of the countess Roland ! 

Chris Oh, sweet Ulrica! oh, most savage — (turns 
towards countess.) Mercy ! do I see right ? 

Countess. You see your aunt, the countess Rowland, 
who regrets extrf^nely she didn't see you on your last 
visit— but you saw Ulrica ; and if, as I presume, you 
come once more to see her — ( Christopher more and 
more frightened) — you do ; your looks, your fears, 
your agilalion proves it ; and to end at once yours, 
hers, and my anxiety — Ulrica ! 

Chris. Dont — dont alarm the family ! upon my hon- 
or, {uppealing) 

Countess. When I selected the son of baron Ravens- 
burg. 1 hadn't the honor of knowing my charming 
liephevv. {curiseying very low, Christopher staring^ 
and beginning to brighten up) But now I do know 
him ! lest the baron should return and spoil the pres- 
ent glorious opportunity — Ulrica ! {Ulrica appears at 
the zcindox) Look — u lio's here — and, at first sight, 
he has so won my favor ; and so excells these paltry 
Ravensburgs, that, if you choose to be released, and 

instantly receive my dear ioved nephew's suit 

Ulrica. 1 11 try, aunt. 
Countess, And you! (to Christopher) 
Chris I'll try, aunt. 

Countess, {hastily going to the door of the chateaii) 
Oliver ! the priest has long been waiting, (to Chris* 
topher) 



Act I J I] KNIGHTS 43 

Chris, {going to the door and calling loudly) Oli- 
ver ! {enter olive r.) Show in the nephew of the 
countess Rowland. {01 iter shows astonishment^ and 
hoks at countess, who nods assent) You see! — cop^ 
duct me to my loved betrothed Ulrica, {countess nod ' 
assenty and gives Christopher the key of Ulrica's 
apartment) You see ! — lead on, my little twaddling 
old butler. Lol de rol, lol lol ! {exit, kissing his hand 
to countess and Ulrica, and making Oliver go in be- 
fore him) 

Countess, There! there's match-making, and here — 

enter baron ravensburg and attendants. 

So, sir — have you found your runaway son ? 

Baron. 1 have, countess — I've traced him to Cor- 
by abbey, and he's so closely pursued, that I shall soon 
imploy the priest now, and make amends for my low 
suspicions about that rascally imposter ! that fellow, 
with his franconian express ! 1 know, except your 

niece 

Countess, {havghtily) I have a nephew, sir, a 
iiephew now in the chateau, whose name you may have 
heard. Count Roland, sir. 

Baron. In my — in my chateau! I've seen — I know 
count Rowland — and such a guest I so rejoice to wel- 
come, {going hastily towards the door ; Olicer re-en^ 
ters meeting him) 

Oliver. And I rejoice ! and my lady, my young 
master, and Agnes may rejoice! for the priest, quite 
worn out with waiting for one couple, is now marry- 
ing another — is marrying the lady Ulrica to your 
nephew ! he, he, he ! 

Baron, {to cou7itess) Marrying Ulrica to your 
nephew ! 

Countess. To my nephew, sir — to a man as far a- 
bove the Ravensburgs in rank, as in accomplishments ! 
Ulrica, throwing open the window) Aunt! we're 
married, aunt ! 

Cow w^ew. Transporting sight! there! {to baron) 
Married to her cousin, great count Rowland! 



44 



FREE 



[HeynoMs 



Chris, {putting his head out of zcindow) No f to 
me! to cousin Christopher! who said, all along, that 
aunt would be as kind to poor, as rich, relations ! and 
^vho, on the baron's giving him his choice, this morn« 
ng walked out of the chateau ; but, now, having sent 
^e promised express, and expecting all his franconia 
cousins, says, " in," till the honeymoon's over ! {shut- 
tivg the zcindow immediately, and he and Ulrica dis^ 
appear) 

Baron. There he is again ! there's the nephew of 
the countess Rowland ! 

Countess. Tis false ! and I'll be instantly revenged ! 

Baron. And so will I ! {as they are going into the 
chateau) 



Baron. 

Countess. 

Both. 



Oliver, 



Countess. 

Baron, 

Both. 



Ulrica. 



QUINTETTO. 

Rage inspires me. 
Madness fires me. 
I'll the slave to pieces tear I 

enter oliver from the house. 

Sorrow banish, 

Anger vanish, 

Come and bless the wedded pair ! 

Plague, 

Confound, 

The wedded pair ' 

enter vlric a from the house. 

As late I traversed yonder plain^ 

I heard a pilgrim, worn with pain, 

A traveller thus addressing: 

* What can't be cured 

* Must be endured, 
But pray, kind friend, your blessing !* 



}•'■ 



What can't be cured 
Must be endured, 



Christopher' 

at the win- 

dozv. 3 ' ^^^ pr^y» ki"<^ friend, your blessing !' 

Ulrica* Vou hear ; {to baron) and you {to countess) 



Act III] KNIGHTS 

Baron. I We do! we do! 

Countess. > 

Ulrica. And you agree ! {coaxing them) 

I see — I see ! 

We've liberty I 
j4ll. Love, true love, is crown'd with glory ! 

Fiva — viva con amore ! [exeunt 

SCENE II — the interior of the abbey, 
enter the abbot and agnes. 

Abbot. An unknown orphan, named Agnes Lindorf, 
by him, your benefactor ! 

A^nes, By baron Ravensburg, whose son has so be- 
friended me. But I detain you from most urgent du- 
ty. The great, the good, all, all advance to grace 
your installation. 

Abbot. They do. But he, this baron, you suspect, 
may know the motive for your accusation? {Agnes 
accords) oh that I knew ! for I would court each, the 
most trifling circumstance, still further to destroy your 
fell accuser's hopes. Well, well, they are destroy'd! 
long ere this dark tribunal had a name, ages had sanc- 
tion'd our monastic rights. And let but your protect- 
ing friend arrive, you may pass free from this devoted 
land, to one where unmasked justice sits in open day^ 
and prince and peasant meet with equal hearing. 

Agnes, We may, we may — and live to recompense 
thy matchless kindness. But still these awful, these 
enraged avengers ! why, why does he delay ? 

enter st. clair. 
St. Clair. My lord, a stranger ! 
Agnes, {looking out) Tis he ! tis Ravensburg ! 

lexit St. Clair 
enter ravensburg. 

Welcome! oh welcome! behold the man (pointing fc 
(he abbot) ^who scorning prejudiced, corrupt, comn'i 
E 



46 FREE [Reynold* 

ance — {Ravenshurg turns axvay, and hides his face) 
Ha ! that Icok ! those tears ! 

Ravens. For thee they fall, and for thy more than 
father ! Tve watch'd, I've hasten'd from iny fell asso« 
elates — {abbot starts) ay, I, by oath, am sworn to be 
the deadly foe of Agnes, and of all who give her aid. j 
But when I know that she deserves that aid, and that 
this boasted instilution's power is made subservient j 
to such lawless crime, as ancient record of tyrann 
guilt can give no proof of, I tTust that he, who bold- 
ly shall retract such oath, is deem'd less guilty in the 
eye of heaven, than he who cowardly fulfills it. Thi» 
for myself— for you, who, singly, have opposed this 
hydra of rapacious power, and in a glorious cause, 
claim'd the just right of sanctuary and of pardon — j 
how will you meet the tenfold horrors that will soon j 
burst forth on all within these walls ! 

Ai:nes. On ail ? 

Abbot. They cannot— dare not ! 

Ravens, They dare ! for her escape discovered, they 
sent forth sanguinary knights, who soon returned, and 
in fall council stated, that one, most nobly acting on 
his founder's edict, detied their power, and pardon'd 
the condemned ! all murmur'd, and all menaced ! till 
1, declaiming on the glaring outrage of those, who 
caird themselves a sacred band, disputing sacred rights, 
had gain'd some proselytes, when the prince Palatine 
appear'd, and like the torrent from the mountain's 
brow, assail'd each obstacle, and swept down all be- 
fore him ! 

Abbot, {after a strvggle) Well! the result? 

Ravens. Most savage, most inevitable ! for while in 
force they come to claim their victim, you, and the 
brotherhood, are all proscribed for treason and for 
sacrilege ! 

Agnes. And this ! this havock is my causing ! mine ! 
a poor orphan ! whose death no kindred will deplore, 
whilst the whole world will mourn my kind defender's 
less ! my lord, tis past ! loved friend, farewell ! and if 



Act 111] KNIGHTS 47 

one victim will appease their rage, I'll hail the sacri. 
lice, and die contented, (going) 

Abbot, [stopping her) Die first this hated despot ! 
who, ever, fiend-liice, strikes his envious fangs where 
"heaven most loves, and man's most bound to guard ! I 
pardon ! I give sanctcary! and whilst one spark of ebb- 
ing life glows here, whilst one small fragment of these 
walls remain, that fragment may be stain'd with dire 
assassin's blood ! but a poor orphan, who, I know, is 
innocent, shall live to soar and triumph o'er her foes ! 
let them advance ! ourselves, our abbey, can support 
some contest, and yon bright power ! Ihat watches 
o'er the virtuous, will combat in our cause ! — [drums 
and trumpets heard at a short distance) Imrk ! they 
come ! 

Agnes. They do ! they do ! and see ! the prince, in 
person, leads the furious band ! look there ! behold ! 
[Ravensburg looks out — abbot turns away) 

Abbot. Not, not for worlds, lest, maddening at the 
sight, I lose all memory of holy function, and ruih to 
strike the murderer of my peace dead in his army's 
presence ! villain ! barbarian ! [weeps aside) oh ! the 
day has been, when these, fair nature's brightest gems, 
hung on my cheek as emblems of pure sympathy ! but 
now, like drops of fire, they serve to light the brand 
of discord and revenge ! — come — to the sanctuary ! 

Ravens. Unequalled man ! fit guardian of such rights 
— speak ! can my arm 

Abbot, [taking him aside) Your father — mark — 
your father may have heard why she is called JNlinfredi's 
daughter. I would know this, and all that you can 
learn. Now, whilst there's hope, away — and this 
(giving him a key) secures your private entrance 
through the western gate upon the river's edge. 

Ravens. V\\ seek my father, ascertain each fact, 
and, fear not, Agnes ! the pangs of parting will be 
paid at meeting ! 

Abbot. Twill do ! twill prosper ! and my great 
founder's edict thus revived— should they persist in 



4S FREE [Reynolds 

prostituting justices' name, I will throw wide my ab-- 
bey gates, and pardoning all they dare proscribe, make 
it a bulwark 'gainst the common foe ! come — away ! 

lexeunt 



SCENE III — a road near Corhey. 
enter ciitiiSTOPHER. 

Chris, So, this is the place of meeting — from hence 
we were to start for Franconia — and not here ! Ulrica 
not yet come ! mighty vvel 
old, and keep her husband waiting ! 

enter Ulrica. 

So, you begin, madam — you torment already. 

Ulrica. VV^hy, if I do torment, Christopher, it^s only 
to please you the more — it is, upon my honor. 

Chr't^* Please by tormenting ! how, madam ? 

Ulrica. Aye — ask the god of love, if it isn't 

Chris. Ves ; but where am 1 to find him ? 

Ulrica. True — where is love to be found ? 

SONG ULRICA. 

1. 

Where does the urchin love abide ? 

Whence does he point his dart? 
Say, does he with the dove reside ? 

Or dwells he in the heart ? 



2. 

No fixed abode the traitor knows- 
On sportive wing he flies? 

A^vhile he dallies with the rose, 
Then smiles in lovers' eyes. 



1 



Act HI] KNIGHTS 4S 

Chris. He docs — in mine ; and now I'll tell you — 
tis all out, and I've within me the true, real Roland 
blood. It seems, the strange old count had privately 
made aunt his wife ; but his estate descending with 
his title, she thought she might support her rank, by 
getting for her neice a famous husband — and she has 
got one, hasn't she, Ulrica ? 

Ulrica, She has — but, seriously, think not that I 
stay'dfrora idle motives. Poor Agnes has found shel- 
ter in Corbey Abbey : but the prince, and the avenging 
knights, march in full force to batter down its walls. 
Chris. Indeed! 

Ulrica. Now — now I heard it from the noble Rav- 
cnsburg, who seeks his father to hear the whole of Ag- 
nes' hapless story. And my aunt's influence no more 
prevailing, perhaps the baron will relent — at least, I 
hope so. 

Chris. So do I — and we won't stir. 
Ulrica. No — not while one glimmering hope re- 
mains of Agnes' safety, and her foes' defeat, 

Chris, No, that we won t — but go, and plead in her 
behalf, (kissing Uh tea's hand) 

Ulrica That I will ; and doubt not, Christopher — 
heaven still will guard the unprotected orphan ! lexit 
Chris. Never — never was couple so match'd ! so 
much aUke in all that's amiable and lovely! oh, when 
we arrive in Franconia ! 1 know one of our neighbors, 
who will be all envy — baron Donderdronkdickdorlf ; 
for, though his wife treats him with the most sove- 
reign contempt, he is still obliged to look up to her. 

SONG — CHRISTOPilER. 



1. 

Baron Donderdronkdickdorff said, one summer's day, 
" Though wedlock's a word that revolts, 

*•' Whatever our folks in Westphalia may say, 
'* I've a great mind to marry miss Quoltz. 
E 2 



50 FREE [Reynolds 

" For of all the dear angels that live near the Weser, 

'' Miss Qnoltz is the stoutest and tallest ; 
*' Thoue:h of all german barons ambitious to please her» 
" I know I'm the shortest and smallest." 
T^ovv f sbou'd like the niarriage waltz 
To dance with thee, my lovely Quoltz ! 



Poor DonderdronckdiclvdorfF, with amorous phiz, 

On tiptoe im;"arted his iiame. 
«' A^^ ! baron!" she sighed, " what a pity it is, 
*' You ar e not haU so long as your name !" 
" [f names,"' said the baron, ' were smaller, or bigger, 

" To suit evVy size at a pinch, 
!' Yoi!> nume, dear miss Quoltz, to keep up to your 
figure, 
*' Wou'd measure six foot and an inch '' 
fiow I should like, &c. 

3, 

The wedding day fix'd, both the parties agreed, 

That the peasants should dance german waltzes, 
And drink to the future mix'd long and short breed 

Of the DondsrdronckdickdorliV and Quoitzes 
To the church, then, on foot, went the ace Avith his 
size 

" What's this crowd for ?'* cries one of the people. 
*' For a baron, who's taking,'' an arch wag replies, 

*' A morning's walk under the steeple." 
How 1 should like, &c. 

4. 

Be n^ re supper, one night, ere the honey moon fled. 
They so quarrell'd, some wives would have struck 
him ; 

But the baroness took up the lord of her bed, 
And over the chimney piece stuck him. 



Act III] KNIGHTS 5i 

As the servant came in, said the baron, " you clown, 
" Not a word when the guests come to sup : 

" I have only been giving my wife a set down, 
" And she giving me a set-up." 

How 1 should liiie, &c. f^exH 



SCENE IV — the grand ahle of the abbey, in the upper 
part of the sanctuary. 

enter bernardo, st. clair, and izco other monks, 
(flourish of drums*and trumpets without) 

Bern. You hear! soon the victorious foe will force 
our walls ; for, can they long suslain the sliock of such 
an host? or if they could — for what? for whom ? are 
we agreed ? 

St. Clair. We are : in a just cause we would uphold 
our abbofs rights ; but when such judges have pronoun- 
ced her traitress, and such brave warriors will support 
that judgment, shall we, upon the word of one, who 
will adduce no proof of innocence — we, the calm ad- 
vocates of peace, not war — shall we devote our abbey 
and ourselves to ruin most inevitable ? 

Bern, No, haughty prelate ! we will teach you now, 
that those who raised you to your splendid height, 
have still the power to humble and to crush you. And 
they who this night come to grace your installation, 
shall view their idoVs downfall. Unbar the gates ! 
(the abbot appears in the aisle, unseen by the monks) 
give the prince Palatine free entrance ; and let the 
vengeance of the secret knights fall, as it ought, on 
those who have provoked it. 

Abbot, {advancing hastily from the aisle) Who's 
he dare utter such piofune commands? 

Bern. Bellarmin ! I ! unbar the gates ! 

Abbot. Forbear ! and think not, brothers, that I 
court this contest, or willingly involve ye in hard office, 
liut we, who, vested with bright mercy's power, can 



52 FREE [Reynolds 

feel the. bliss of sparing the unfortunate ; shall we, 
when barbarism, mask'd by pious, plausible pretext, 
strikes at the growth of every liberal feeling ; shall we 
forego our edict, or uphold it ? 1 say, uphold it ! and 
chiefly on one proof — Manfredi had no daughter ! 
that charge 1 know to be most groundless. 

Bern. You knew Manfredi then ! {abbot shoics agi- 
tation) he, our new oracle, proclaims he was no 
stranger to this murderer, 

Abbot, {xcilh sujjpressed indignation) Murderer ! 

Bern. The worst of murderers ! false to the man 
who raised him from low fortune — false to his patron, 
the brave prince Palatine ! 

Abbot, To him! 

Bern. To him ! who, on his brother's, the late 
prince's death, anxious to see and guard that brother's 
child, then some leagues distant from the court, des- 
patched Manfredi, as his trustiest friend, to be the 
princess' escort ; when, on the way, most artfully dis» 
missing all her train, and mov^ed not by the smile of 
infant innocence, mixing ingratitude with traitorous 
cruelty, this foe to virtue, but Bellarmin's friend, 
plunged his fell poinard in Theresa's heart, and fled, 
and died the victim of despair. 

Abbot. Wert thou a winged messenger from heaven, 
my father's spirit, nay, e'en fate itself! Fd tell you 
vile detractor, it is false ! false as thy friend, the brave 
prince Palatine! who fired by daring and ambitious 
views, besought Manfredi to remove the bar twixt 
him and sovereignty. Manfredi yielded to protect 
his charge, and artfully dismissed the princess' train, 
to bear her to a friendly foreign court ; v/hen galling, 
dire reverse ! in a dark covert on the Danube's banks, 
outlaws effected what her foes desired — Theresa fell ! 
(speaking rapidly) a prey to grief and disappointed 
hope, Manfredi fled — yon fell usurper gained the 
wish'd-for seat ! 
Bern» Usurper! 
Abbot. Fiend! coward! traitor! who, to destroy 



Act III] KNIGHTS 5S 

Manfredi's evidence, sought his destruction ;— who^ 
by false statement and concurring circumstances, se- 
cured his triumph — who still comes forth to immolate 
more innocence! and Corbey's Abbotistosharein the 
new sacrifice! no, though our order teaches resignation 
— yet teaching fortitude and love of virtue, my found- 
er's spirit shall inspire my soul, and once more Charle- 
magne shall vanquish here 1 

Bern. Audacious, impious slanderer ! compare en- 
nobled and established worth with such confirm'd dis- 
grace ! — ijiour'ish of drums and trumpets^ and noise 
of zoalls falling) they force the outworks ! instant aid 
their entrance ! and hail the downfal of such perjured 
arrogance ! 

St. Clair. Come! 

Ahh%t. (getting betweem them and the gates) St. 
Clair ! Bernardo ! who once call'd me friend I and who, 
on sudden impulse, have drawn forth what I so long 
and anxiously kept secret, will you desert me at this 
awful moment? or, to the last contending for our ab- 
bey's rights, implore these warriors from the Holy land, 
not to take arms against a sacred cause ! she's wrong'd, 
she's innocent. 

Bern. Tis false — most false ! 

enter ravensburg. 

Ravens. My lord, all's lost ! the savage and invete- 
rate foe have storm'd the walls, and rush to glut their 
vengeance. 

Abbot. ( to Ravensburg apart) And from your father ! 
none — no hope ? 

Ravens. None ! he merely states, that dreading he 
might lose her, who'd supply a daughter's loss ; and 
fearing to increase an orphan's grief^ he cautiously con- 
cealed, how, one autumnal night some fourteen years 
ago, he saw upon the Danube's banks, an infant seem- 
ingly expiring. He snatch'd it — saved it ! and what 
the mystery might solve, if now such mystery were 
worth the solving — this scarf {producing it) eocircled 



54. FREE [Reynolds 

her. [abbot takes the scarf with great eagerness) But 
all is past ! and Agnes, dear loved Agnes, by tiie father 
saved, the son must instantly behold destroyed. 

Abbot, (after having gazed on the scarf with tht 
greatest emotion) Eternal providence! Theresa! prin- 
cess ! oh, great god of nature ! {rushing into the sanc- 
tuary) 

Ravens. Theresa ! — mighty heaven ! (flourish — the 
gates are forced) 

enter the prince palatine, free knights, crusaders 
and soldiers. 

Prince. First seize yon renegade I ( free knights 
seize Ravensburg) next force the sanctuary ! (free 
knights and soldiers enter the sanctuary by force) 
and then no more on others shall her fate impend. 

This arm {knights and soldiers bring Agnes from 

the sanctuary to the front, all the characters follozcing) 
Now, while all thoughts are deadened in my heated 
brain, but those of fury and revenge — thus treason 
falls, and the vile traitress dies, (seizing Agnes, and 
going to stab her with his suord) 

Abbot, [behind the crowd) Forbear! she is your 
rightful princess ! 

Prince. Merciful powers ! who dare e'en breathe — 

Abbot, (rushing through the crowd, and approach- 
ing the prince) Here, in these hallowed aisles; here, 
in the face of heaven, and of man, by all your hopes 
of future preservation, avow your treason, and your 
sovereign's wrongs, detested, treacherous, murderous 
villain! [prince much agitated) see, guilt is on him! 
now, ye who had no faith, (to the monks) and ye, 
who trample upon sacred rights, (to the free knights) 
behold how sacred justice is display'd ! there's the 
usurper, sinking with remorse, and here Manfredi, 
shedding tears of joy at his regained, beloved Iheresa's 
feet ! 

(Jihe prince lets his sword fall, and reclines on the 
mrm of fValbourg — Ravensburg fies to AgneSf 



Act III] KNIGHTS 55 

and takes her from the free knights — abbot 
kneels on one side of Agnes, Ravensburg on 
the other. 

Ravens. Manfredil sovereign! 

Abbot, He knows it — knows, on her supposed de- 
cease, this hand informM him of Manfredi's motives — 
and that, disgusted with a sickening world, in calm re- 
tirement, he should seek for peace. He sought it here 
— and in Bellarmin's name, was here most safely shel- 
ter'd! when, soon, the daring calumny spread wide, 
of " traitor-' — of " assassin"— and the sad narrative 
perverted, confirm'd the perjured statement. You'll 
say I should have answer'd this ? no — aware such in- 
fluence, and such arts, would, with such judges, beat 
down humble truth, I kept immur'd ! and my reported 
death checking inquiry, whilst the loud world sung 
forth the slanderer's praise, I could look inward, and 
exclaim, better for ever undeserved disgrace, than hear 
applause the heart can never sanction ! 

Agnes. My lord, {to Ravensburg) though lost in 
wonder, and in joy, and now most certain he proclaim'd 
me as Manfredi's daughter, to give a color to each cru- 
el charge ! yet can I see a fellow creature, torn with 
such convulsive agony ! — go — speak — console him. 

Abbot, {to prince) You hear ! 

Prince. I do ! and if Manfrcdi had, like me, beheld 
her angel mother's form, the strong resemblance had 
betray'd the secret, and mad ambition had been sooner 
crushed ! I sue, 1 supplicate for death — life, life's the 
dreaded punishment for guilt like mine ! come — I im- 
plore ye ! 

Abbot. Tis gone ! tis vanish'd ! and I, who hated and 
opposed, ROW feel my edict surpasses even royal rights! 
monarchs may spare, yet also they must punish I by 
my perogative, 1 can but pardon — be safe within these 
walls, till higher power determines on your fate, {the 
prince is led back) Now hope we to fulfill a far more 
welcome office, the union of two hearts, that beat in 
«nison, and that our forth-coming installation, past — 

LofC. 



56 FREE KNIGHTS [Reytiold* 

{music zoitkout) hark ! they come— the warfare o'er, 
the sons of peace approach. 

Ravens, {looking out) Oh ! glorious, welcome sight! 
and let none say the days of darkness are returned, 
when such desert is crown 'd with such reward— my 
lord, they enter — they expect you. 

Abbot. Why, aye , and if my princess will partake— 

she will, she will— and tis not there, that 1 shall seelc^ 

reward— tis here ! tis here, (taking the princesses^. 

hand) [exeunt 

{music) 



scF.NE V — the installation, 8fc. 
{all the characters discovered) 

CHORUS. 

Hall, hour of glory ! 

Hail, hour of glory ! ^ 
Long o'er our hearts may our abbot sway ! 

Famed in story, 
Long live this hallowed and this happy day ! 

Abbot. Be ever chronicled this blest event ! and 
now my princess shall with me unite to root out secret, 
subterraneous justice, and fixing it in fair and openl 
day, unmask free nights, and hail the dawn of genu^ 
ine freedom, and enlightened truth ! I 

FINALE. 

Now your lofty paeans raise, 

To our youthful princess' praise. 

* Ne'er may such blessed rulers sever 

** May our princess live for ever ! 

END OF THE FREE KNIGHTS. 



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